How much grief can a
heart bear before being tested to the ultimate limit?The War is over, Charlotte and Sanderson are
reunited, and life is good … until the Army comes knocking.They have charged Sanderson with the murder
of his former captor, the despicable Lieutenant Lantz who swore to kill him and
Jackson. After a make-believe trial, Sanderson is sentenced to “hang by the
neck until dead” – unless he can track down and kill the notorious outlaw
William Quantrill with the help of SGT Jerry Thomas, who still may be in love
with Charlotte.While Sanderson is on
his blood mission, Charlotte miscarries the baby he wasn’t even aware
existed.In addition to battling her
grief over the loss of their unborn baby, Charlotte must also battle a rash of
hydrophobia that threatens the countryside –Sanderson included.

Bio for Sara
Barnard:

Sara Barnard, author
of the historical fiction series, An Everlasting Heart, has been reading
children’s books her whole life. First, she read then as a child then she read
them to her four beautiful children! Sara has her Bachelor’s degree in history,
has had her work included in numerous anthologies, and has written several
other books to date. Sara and her family make their home in the historic hills
of Oklahoma along with their three dogs, three cats, and eight chickens.

“Don’t
die till we get to have some fun, girl.” Samuel’s whiskey-ruined voice was hot
in Charlotte’s ear. Somewhere behind her, Dean’s maniacal laughter pulsated
with cruelty. The Bowie knife grew closer to her face, but with her arms lashed
behind her, Charlotte could only watch in helpless terror as the promise of
death drew nearer.

“Sanderson!”
she screamed, just before the icy blade met the skin of her neck.

“I’m
here. I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” Sanderson murmured into her
hair. His arm, muscled and tanned, tightened around her middle. His voice was
thick with sleep. “Was it that dream again?”

She
sat up and traced the knife scar at the base of her neck. The air was crisp in
their loft and a rash of goose bumps immediately cropped up on her exposed
skin. “It was one of them. The knife one. I always wake up before they kill me,
but I swear,” Charlotte shook her head to clear the nightmare from her mind,
“it gets scarier every time.”

“They’ll
get worse before they get better.” Sanderson propped himself up on an elbow and
ran his hand down her thigh before continuing, “Mine are pretty bad right now,
too. But when I wake up and look at you, I know I’m home.”

She
returned his mischievous smile.

“We’ve
been through a lot these past few years. Figure it’ll take our brains a little
while to catch up with our bodies. The bad dreams are just our way of getting
there, as I see it.” He twined his fingers through hers. “You know how I know
that I’m really home?” He tugged her down close.

“How’s
that?”

“I
can do this.” With his free hand, he cupped the side of her face. That familiar
spark blazed to life within her chest before their lips met. She closed her
eyes. Softly, his kiss found her cheek, then her lips. Trembling, she let
herself be taken over by her husband’s sensual caress.

“Wait,
what about Minerva? Won’t she hear us?” Charlotte’s eyes were still closed. For
a fleeting moment, she wondered if they’d been right to offer Minerva and baby
Jay Jay their extra room. Certainly, having an empty house in moments such as
these would be optimal. She pushed the thought away as quickly as it had come.
Minerva was her sister-in-law, and she couldn’t imagine everyday life without
tiny Jay Jay. After all, she had brought him into the world and only Aunt Charlotte
could calm him down deep in those colicky nights.

Sanderson’s
breath was warm in her ear, “They went out early this morning.”

Satisfied
that they were alone and talk time was over, Charlotte met Sanderson’s kiss
with passionate ferocity. His skin, roughened by time spent in Alton
Confederate Prison, glided against hers naturally, like water over smooth river
pebbles.

Charlotte
flung back the covers. “Maybe we can continue this tonight?”

“As
you wish, Mrs. Redding.”

A
pounding at the door tore their gazes from each other.

“Who
in the world would come calling this early in the morning?” Charlotte wondered
aloud.

“I’ll
get it,” Sanderson called, pulling on his britches. His voice echoed in their
quaint, stone cottage.

“I’m
closer,” Minerva answered. “Jay Jay is too tired to sleep.” She clomped across
the floor with the infant nestled in the crook of her arm.

Charlotte
peered over the edge of the loft. “Good morning, Minerva. Is Jay Jay ready for
his Aunt Charlotte?”

“Si, he is.” Minerva smiled and rested
her hand on the doorknob. “We picked some carrots this morning. Let’s make a
stew tonight.” She hefted the door open.

An
unfamiliar voice boomed, “Captain Sanderson Redding!”

Sanderson
froze, his shirt only half buttoned. The cold fingers of fear squeezed
Charlotte’s stomach until bile rose into her throat.

“Um,
ah, um,” Minerva stammered. Jay Jay began to wail again.

Charlotte
dashed to the window. “Soldiers! They’re everywhere Sanderson!” She whirled,
eyes wide. “Can we make it to the cave underneath Sunshine Rock where I hid
from the Yankees?”

He
inched to the wall and peeked out the window. Reaching out to Charlotte, he
pulled her close. “There’s no way. They’re even in the trees. Every rifle out
there is trained on our house, just waiting for me to make a run for it.”

“We
know he’s in there, so cough him up before we come in and search the place!”

Sanderson
started toward the ladder.

“No!
Please, we have to try!” Hysteria was threatening to overwhelm Charlotte to
such an extent that she didn’t feel like herself at all. “Please!”

“I
have to turn myself in, for all our sakes. We don’t know who pointed them our
way, or even why they’re here.” He began to climb down, so Charlotte started
after him. She grasped the rungs and rested her head against them. Her stomach
lurched and her knees threatened to give way.

Sanderson
plucked her from the ladder. She clasped his hand, and they stepped to the door
together. Minerva moved behind them, the baby whimpering in her arms. Their
eyes met for a moment.

“Captain
Sanderson Redding?” An Army officer in blue stepped forward, a scroll in his
hands.

“Good
morning, gentlemen. How can I help you?” Sanderson’s voice was cool and ever
polite, but his grip tightened on her hand. Charlotte tried to count the
soldiers, but more kept appearing from the woods.

“Captain
Redding, on behalf of the United States of America, I hereby charge you with
the murder of Lieutenant Robbinson Lantz.” Sanderson’s eyes widened. “Also got
a list of other lesser crimes, but they don’t really matter since you gonna
hang for murder anyway.”